1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
3forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
4with cherry-pips his cottage floor is sown
5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7he’s gone to London how the echo rings
8for burning bushes never fish forgave
9The wolf devours both sheep and shepherdess
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11poor Yorick comes to bury not address
12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
14they’re kings we’re mammal-cousins hi ho hum
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